


Straight, No Chaser

by lawlessearth



Category: Lovecraft Country (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Christina and Ruby are neighbors, F/F, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Navigating Friendship and Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawlessearth/pseuds/lawlessearth
Summary: Christina and Ruby are neighbours. That's it. That's the story.
Relationships: Ruby Baptiste/Christina Braithwhite
Comments: 107
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of 'In the Stillness of the Night.'

Dinner that night was French. The restaurant was housed in one of the few remaining 19th-century Brownstone buildings in Chicago’s Streeterville neighborhood. Christina and her father arrived in separate cars. The owner herself greeted them warmly at the door and then led them to a table in a corner far from the usual bustle. There was a warm, homey feel to the interiors despite the very obvious aura of refinement.

Christina sank into one of the upholstered seats with a sense of absolute calm. Her father caught her eyes briefly before flickering away. While he exchanged pleasantries with the charming owner, Christina occupied herself with the prix fixe menu and the always impressive wine list.

It was a kind of ritual for them, a bi-monthly obligation to have dinner together while they went through the motions of being a family. The word itself meant nothing. Christina had almost no memories attached to it and, as a result, had never considered those words – _father, daughter –_ in connection to herself. Clarissa, her mother, had died of overdose on Vicodin when she was five years old - old enough to remember but not old enough to understand. Her father, Samuel Braithwhite, showed absolutely no interest in raising a daughter. The only family she had ever known and both turned out to be so…disappointing.

“So, how’s everything?” Samuel asked her as soon as the uniformed wait staff left with their orders. The question was standard. He did not even bother to look at her or seem interested in her answer. He turned away, scanning the room for familiar faces. There were a few of them and some raised their glasses when they caught his eyes across the room.

Christina shrugged. “Fine.”

“How’s work?”

She shrugged again. “Busy.”

“Keith told me you’ve put the penthouse up for rent.”

Christina studied the details of the flower arrangement at the center of the table. “Keith can fuck off,” she said evenly. Keith was her real estate broker. He was also very fired.

“The apartment in Dunning?”

“It’ll gather dust and cobwebs for a while now that I don’t have a broker.”

“I’ll have no relation of mine living in some squalid apartment in some godforsaken neighborhood.” The line was delivered without emotion.

Christina knew he really couldn’t care less about her living arrangements. What concerned him was what other people had to say about it. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep my South Shore sensibilities in check during your fancy dinners.”

“What is it? Money?” Samuel said as though she did not say anything. “Have you finally run your mother’s trust fund to the ground?”

It was the first time he made a reference to her mother in years. Christina thought she saw something come into his eyes. She thought it was regret. But it was anger.

“Go to Jonathan in the morning and ask him for the key for the condo in Lake View,” he said in clipped tones. “That’s where a Braithwhite should live. Not some dank place full of those wretched people.”

Christina gazed at his profile and saw nothing there. Not even the barest resemblance. Samuel had light brown hair and brown eyes. Braithwhite eyes. Narrow and set close together, giving generations and generations of Braithwhites that sharp, pointed look. They were a family of stocky, solid build, remnants from one of their earliest ancestors who had worked the coal mines in Wales. With her blonde hair and doe-like eyes (blue, not brown) Christina looked nothing like them. She had lost count of the number of times she’d been told she was the spitting image of her mother. She’d seen a picture once of Clarissa Braithwhite at thirty-three, the same age as she was now, and they could have been twins. Tall and willowy, Clarissa had towered over many of the Braithwhites in that picture but there was a weakness to her posture, a feebleness in her expression, that made her almost disappear in the background. In a way, the picture told her story the way nothing else could.

Their waiter arrived with a bottle of unopened wine. He presented the label to Samuel who gave it a cursory glance then nodded. Christina waited until their glasses were filled and the staff left, before she launched into her own set of questions.

“When are you going to give me partnership at the firm?” As always, she went straight for the jugular.

A muscle twitched in her father’s cheek. “When you’re good enough.”

“Have you heard of the Hawthorne case?”

“Lancaster said your courtroom antics pissed off the judge.”

“Lancaster can fuck off, too,” Christina returned harshly. “That case was unwinnable and you know it. But _I_ ,” she brought her hand to her chest, “did it. I won that case.” She still remembered the exultation she felt. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Winning was what her life was about, being the victor, never the victim.

Samuel took a sip of his wine. “Not without help.”

Despite herself, Christina was stunned to find the disinterest written all over his face. “If you’re talking about William, he barely did anything,” she said, careful to keep her composure.

“That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear?”

As if detecting the change in her demeanor, Samuel’s movements slowed down infinitesimally. He raised his eyes to hers, holding her gaze steadily without a trace of recognition, not even the barest acknowledgment that half of her DNA was his. Instead of answering, he asked, “Why do you think I made William second chair? In terms of experience, he outranks you. In terms of skill, he is ahead of you by far. By all rights and all account, the first chair should have been his, not yours, but,” and here he paused, mouth twisted in a kind of savage smile, “he needed to be less visible for the kind of work he had to do.”

Rage. Christina never thought a single person could hold so much rage for so long. She wanted to smash the glass from his hand, drive one of the broken shards into his throat and watch him bleed out. The instinct flared briefly inside her chest along with the grotesque vision of his lifeless body, then just as suddenly as it came, the feeling went. She stared at her father dully. “You bribed the judge?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He downed the rest of his wine. “We hire people for that.”

Christina breathed slowly through her nose.

Samuel put his glass down and went on saying, “On Monday, you’ll be moved to a larger office with a wall of windows. Consider the Lake View Condo a bonus for not fucking up the case entirely. But in the meeting next quarter, it’s William who will be made partner.”

Their plates arrived. Christina looked at the beautiful, mouth-watering presentation in front of her - the artichoke terrine was wedge-shaped and half an inch thick, graced with shaved truffle and black-garlic puree - and found she could not work out an appetite.

Samuel had already taken a bite. He looked up at her and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Christina shook her head and picked up her wine glass. Nothing mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to put this up early in case it takes me a while to write the next succeeding chapters because I just realised that the first chapter has nothing to do with Ruby x Christina lol Anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit. 
> 
> I appreciate ya'll for reading and for commenting, especially the fellow writers who write for this ship. I read all your fics avidly. You guys are the shit and ilysm

Her neighbor was having a party. She could tell by the sound of laughter and the tinkling of glasses against a backdrop of muted jazz. She’d met some of the attendees - young, multi-racial, artistic types - in the elevator on her way up to her floor. As she’d stepped off first and strode down the hallway, she’d heard one of them behind her say somewhat loudly, “That is one tall glass a milk,” followed by jostling laughter.

Once in her flat, Christina did not turn on the overhead lights. She undressed by ambient lighting from the world outside, put on her robe and stepped into the bathroom to run herself a bath. Leaving the water running, she went to pour herself a glass of wine. She finished it quickly, poured herself another and was starting to turn when she decided to bring the whole bottle with her.

Like everything else, the bathroom was small. The bath was not nearly enough to accommodate her length, which was the reason why she seldom used it. If she wanted to enjoy a bath, she preferred to book herself a hotel room for a weekend. But, it was only Thursday and she was not in the mood to do more than listen to her neighbor’s party and drink wine she bought from Les Nomades. At least that dinner was good for something. The wine was excellent, her squalid apartment notwithstanding.

At a quarter past eleven, it sounded like the party was finally winding down. Snippets of goodbyes and promises to keep in touch, followed by the click of the door closing. Thelonious Monk was playing on the Bluetooth speaker but with the volume turned down low. Someone was having an argument over the phone while another was drunkenly humming to himself some tune that Christina didn’t recognize. She was sitting out in the balcony with her half-empty bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes. The early Autumn wind carried a chill but not enough to keep people from going out in light jackets. She herself liked the cold. It kept her sharp, kept her mind alert.

Someone stepped out into the balcony of the next apartment, ostensibly to finish her phone conversation in private. But the person on the other end of the line apparently hung up. “Hello…? Hello! Oh, you little –” She stopped abruptly and turned to stare in Christina’s direction.

The light from the apartment next door was behind her so Christina could not see her features well but that voice belonged to Ruby Baptiste alright. She would have recognized it anywhere. It was odd. She’d spent nearly two months listening to this woman go about her evenings to the point that she felt like she knew her without having talked to her at all. And the moment she had the opportunity, all she could manage was: “Hey.”

Ruby shifted her weight, the hand holding her phone dropping to her side. “Uh, hey.”

“Interesting conversation,” Christina said before she could consider the words coming out of her mouth.

“What, were you eavesdropping?”

“Overheard. Thin walls. You were loud.” She dropped ash from her cigarette with a casual flick.

“It’s rude to listen to other people’s conversation.”

Christina paused, then said with heavy irony, “Next time I’ll be sure to let you know I live right next door.”

A moment passed, and then Ruby relented. “Look, I’m sorry if the noise bothered you.”

“No bother.” Christina reached over to crush the remains of her cigarette into the ashtray. “But, do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Apologize to strangers?” She said, glancing up.

Ruby had moved to the edge of her balcony, closer to her side. Ignoring the question, she instead asked, “What does ‘C.B.’ stand for?”

Her mailbox. She didn’t want to put in too much detail. Her last name was too much detail. Besides, it was not like she expected to receive any mails. “Christina,” she said.

“Christina,” Ruby rolled off the letters on her tongue. “And the ‘B’ stands for…?”

She used a specific tone that had Christina looking at her, a bit stunned even as a reluctant grin tugged at her lips. “Trust me,” she said after a breath. “I’ve been called worse things.”

There was a soft chuckle. “I’m Ruby,” she offered, leaning against the railing.

Christina slipped another cigarette from the pack on the table and lit one. The flare from the Zippo illuminated the two of them for a moment and Christina looked up to find Ruby still staring at her. “Ruby,” she said, turning slightly to blow smoke. “Nice to finally put a face to the voice. And thank you for the lamp.”

Ruby’s smile widened. She didn’t look embarrassed, just surprised. “You heard that.”

“Oh, no, I was eavesdropping,” Christina said quickly. “It’s why I was outside. The better to hear you with.”

Ruby laughed this time. It was a nice laugh, a full laugh – open and unself-conscious. “Well, it sure looked like you were having a hard time reading all those papers without a proper light.”

“Very nice and neighborly of you.”

“Not stalkery?”

Christina shook her head assuredly.

There was no need to fill the silence that followed. Christina continued to chain smoke quietly, sipping from her glass from time to time. Ruby pulled up a chair and sat in her own balcony. She was occupying herself with her phone. When the last party stragglers came out to look for her and say goodbye, she waved them off, thanking them for coming. The minutes ticked. Christina let her thoughts drift, not surprised to find that they gravitated towards the woman on the other side. Soon, her gaze followed.

Ruby was still on her phone, texting someone. Her brows are drawn together. Her face a picture of concentration. She was beautiful – the kind of beautiful that took one unawares.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Christina ventured after some length. She put out her cigarette and moved to get a new one. “It’s not your birthday, is it?” Because that would be a situation.

“No, it’s not my birthday,” Ruby said. “It’s Seymour’s. We call him ‘Tree.’”

“Boyfriend?”

“Co-worker,” she said distractedly.

Christina relaxed in her seat, playing with the cigarette between her fingers. “Is that a thing? Throwing a birthday party for a co-worker?” She couldn’t imagine doing it for any of her colleagues at the firm. Her secretary, Dell, had worked with her for a few years but she didn’t even know where the girl lived, let alone the day she was born. Doing it for William, with whom she had a professional rivalry but also the longest history, would just confuse things. She lit her cigarette.

“Tree’s from the old neighborhood. We go way back.”

As though that explained anything. Christina was intrigued, however. “What’s the deal with that person on the phone?”

Ruby turned to her and Christina could hear the disapproving frown in her voice. “Look, C.B., you’re cute and all but you don’t get to ask rude and prying questions. I hardly know you.”

“That could change.”

Ruby ignored her insinuation. “Can I bum a smoke?” She had put her cellphone down, apparently giving up on whoever it was she was texting. She was looking over at Christina’s side.

Christina stood up and wordlessly approached the partition between them. She held out the pack of cigarettes to her. Ruby took one and placed it between her lips. Christina lit the Zippo. Ruby circled her fingers over hers to hold the flame steady. There was a persistent twinge on Christina’s cheeks. She knew it wasn’t just the wine. Ruby was looking at her, still holding her hand. Christina found herself saying almost without volition, “Have coffee with me.”

The flame went off, plunging them both in shadows but for the red glow of two cigarette tips and smoke as Ruby exhaled. She let go of Christina’s hand and stepped back but a smile colored her voice when she said, “As friends?”

Christina moved her shoulders. “If you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 12/07/2020: Smoking is bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a Ruby and Christina scene is such a temptation. You have no idea how close I was to following up the last chapter with another one but I have to consider the timeline. I will admit that I have written the scene already and will find a place for it.

It was half-past ten when Christina stepped from her car and walked the short walk to the bank of elevators. Braithwhite & Partners was on the thirtieth floor, a veritable labyrinth of lawyers’ offices and secretaries’ cubicles furnished in heavy walnut and leather. Though her name appeared on the lobby leading to the reception area, she was not the Braithwhite on the logo. Even now when she was fast becoming the firm’s most sought-after litigator, her father had made it clear that he had no plans to promote her beyond senior associate. It was humiliating, to say the least. And it was something to think about. 

Christina strode into her new office without stopping for chit-chat along the way. Dell, her secretary, came in a few minutes later with a cup of fresh coffee. After placing the drink carefully on the table, she straightened and began narrating a litany of calls and appointments that came in while Christina was in court.

“Oh and Mr. Derby came by. He said he wanted to talk to you about that new case?”

Christina just nodded and then remembered to ask, “Dell, before I forget, where are you staying?”

Dell was on her way out but made a full stop, surprised by the question. “Pardon?”

“Where do you live?”

“Uh, in Portage Park. A house in the suburb. I share it with two other -”

Christina cut her off. “And your birthday?”

“What?”

“Dell, do I have to repeat myself every time I ask you a question?”

A moment later, Christina swiveled her chair to stare at the view of Lake Michigan framed by steel skyscrapers in the distance. She didn’t turn even when she heard the door close. She was making a mental note to update her diary with her secretary’s birthday and her address. It was quieter beyond; the office was at work. She turned back, picked up a pen and wrote on a legal pad: _‘’Buy present for R.’_

At eleven-thirty, William Derby walked into her office. He was blond with a lean, pared down look to him; no excesses anywhere. He was carrying a thin manila folder, which he dropped unceremoniously on her desk. Christina did not even spare it a glance and just continued typing. He settled himself on one of the plush chairs arranged around the glass-top coffee table at the center, stretched his arms out and crossed his legs. “Very nice,” he said, inspecting his surroundings.

“William, if you’re here to gloat, you can fuck right off.”

“They haven’t even officially told me yet,” he said with a hint of a pout.

“They’re renovating your new office as we speak.”

“Won’t be ready until next week. They had to work on yours first.”

Christina rolled her eyes but determined not to venture another word.

“So how did court go?” William was undeterred. “Heard you demolished the other guy.”

Christina did not look up but curiosity got the better of her and her gaze strayed towards the file on her desk. The label on the front caught her eye.

William noticed and gestured towards it. “I’ve got a referral. Palimony suit. Young couple, been together for three years.”

Christina immediately pushed the folder further away until it was almost at the edge of the table. “Appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t practice family law.” She went back to typing.

“Might want to reconsider,” he said with disguised mirth. “Who knows? It could still turn out to be your true calling.”

Christina shot him an irritated look. “You’re truly full of shit.”

He met her gaze and his smile faded. “Joking aside, this came all the way from the top. So, if you have a problem….” He let the sentence hang.

Christina leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. Top. She knew what that meant. There was only one name partner in this firm.

“Right,” William said after a moment, rising from the couch. He gestured at the files again, smiling. “You should get yourself up to speed on that. Client is coming in at two o’ clock this afternoon.”

* * *

The client was an assistant state’s attorney with a promising political career. As soon as she saw his name on the file, Christina knew why her father put her on the referral.

“Cousin Tic,” she said, eyes narrowed, the beginnings of a smile or a grimace curling the corners of her lips.

Atticus Freeman was taller than Christina remembered. Gone was the nerdy kid she used to alternately bully and fawn over back in Ardham to get on her father’s nerves. In his place was a trim, young black man in a tailored blue suit. Something in the way he carried himself, back straight, head held at an angle, recalled to her a client of hers who’d served two tours in Iraq. She wondered if Tic had served as well before going to law school. She remembered he was exactly a year younger than her and always a head shorter. Now, she found to her petty but immense satisfaction that, in the years between the last time they saw each other, he’d only managed to gain one inch over her.

“You still like to annoy your father over that?” Tic said. His expression wasn’t friendly exactly but there was recognition there. As children, they had been in each other’s orbits with the Freemans living in a cottage house on a small property next to the Braithwhite Mansion.

Christina flashed him a smile full of teeth. “No more than you seem to like to rattle his cage.” She could just imagine Samuel Braithwhite in his gilt-edge corner office receiving that call. The outrage he must have felt, the indignation, the need to get rid of the problem as quickly as possible.

Tic reached for one of the chairs in front of her desk and looked to her for permission. At her imperceptible nod, he sat down, one arm resting on top of her desk. “I suppose you want me to start from the beginning.”

Christina sat down as well and watched him, fingers steepled in front of her. Tic looked a little agitated, uncertain. She could see that he was occupied with a pressing problem but trying to keep it together. It was the kind of behavior she observed in a lot of clients who came to her office with their legal problems. Granted most of them were problems of their own making so she had little sympathy, but she understood. That was the reason she went into law; she understood and she liked solving problems. The people part was just par for the course.

“Why don’t you start with ‘why Braithwhite and Partners?’” She said. It was not a standard question but then again there was nothing standard about this consult or this client.

The question took him by surprise. He did not seem to expect to have his purpose challenged so directly. “Because I know your reputation. Your win rate.”

“Means nothing. We’re not specialists in that practice area.”

“I heard about the Steve Durell case. That was you.”

_Ah,_ Christina thought. A year ago. One of the few family cases she’d agreed to handle. Durell was a big plum. Tic must have heard only rumors because the agreement was supposed to be private. Durell eventually settled for a lot of money and Christina’s client was set for life.

“I know you’re good.”

“I’m the best lawyer I can be for all my clients,” she said evenly, then added with a self-assured “But yes, I’m good.”

Tic didn’t even blink. “And I know you’ll help.”

Christina cackled – actually cackled. “Oh, Atticus, you got it all wrong. Besides,” she added languidly, “Durell was kind of a one-off deal. I haven’t accepted a family law case since. But you already know that.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He looked away before Christina could make it out. She frowned, then leaned forward. “Don’t fuck with me, Tic.”

“Then why bother to read my file and agree to this meeting?” Tic pointed out, starting to become vexed.

Christina never planned to make it easy. “I didn’t really agree to this meeting any more than I was told take it,” she told him, her voice softly mocking. “I’m supposed to tell you ‘no.’”

Family law was always such a mess. Emotions ran in the extremes. The high potential for personal drama and emotional confrontation was what repelled Christina from delving into it. Her father knew that and probably hoped she’d do as she always did and refuse the case. Nip it in the bud, so to speak.

Tic’s face was taut. “It was a mistake to come here.”

“Probably.”

“Then I won’t waste any more of your time.” He rose from his chair stiffly.

“Sit down,” Christina snapped.

Tic froze, then turned to her furiously.

Before he could say anything though, Christina said, eyes glaring, “Have you ever known me to fucking do what I’m supposed to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, this is becoming a STORY, which means it's going to have more chapters and also other characters are going to feature. I now have a basic idea of how it's going to go and end but it's malleable atm. At its core, this is a Ruby x Christina fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Exposition time. Also, for some reason, I remembered Samuel Braithwhite wrong. I thought he had light brown hair and assumed he had brown eyes and I wrote that in lol oops Anyway...

Christina was eleven when she first understood the power of the Braithwhite name. The funeral of Titus Braithwhite was held in the chapel near Forest River in Massachusetts. It was attended by a mass of people, all the generations of Braithwhites, rows and rows of them, and their friends and business associates, and even a few of their enemies.

The first two rows were reserved for the Braithwhite Family, Titus’ direct line. Christina and her father, Samuel, sat alone on the very front, just a few feet away from the open coffin. The row directly behind them remained significantly vacant. It attracted curious looks but no one came to occupy it.

The room rustled and swayed as people bent left and right to whisper to their neighbors and listen to speakers reminisce about Titus. They all knew each other; many of them had grown up together, and gone to private schools together, and now they were bankers, executives of multinational companies, owners of industries, commodities brokers, and presidents of insurance companies. They were the warp and woof of New England society, and Titus Braithwhite had been one of them. They had tolerated his eccentricities, even his running off to the woods of Ardham, because, after all, he had made so very much money.

Christina turned around to look at all the faces. Most of them were strange to her. But in the rows where the Braithwhites sat, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Cousins twice and thrice removed. Aunts and uncles who married into other prominent families. Relatives by blood and by marriage. Christina imagined she recognized even some of them from pictures in the dusty family albums that her father kept in the basement library of their Lexington mansion. However, she did not know any of them and her father never cared to let them know her.

Her gaze fell on the row of empty seats behind them and thought again of the pair of dark eyes staring at her curiously as she sat with her father in the office of Titus’ lawyer the other day. A young boy with his mother and father. She remembered Samuel looking absolutely stunned as the lawyer introduced the family to him and told him how Titus put his estate in Ardham under fee tail to them. No other explanation was provided. And none was forthcoming. (It was all one big family secret – "a taint in the bloodline," as Samuel, always so dramatic, liked to call it while Christina referred to him simply as “dear cousin Tic.”)

The eulogy went on for another hour. At the end of it, the minister went up to the podium to make a few announcements for the family. “Interment will be at St. Mary’s Cemetery. The family will be at home…”

The boy and his parents never came. Not to the chapel with the massive, carved doors and brass rings. Not to the Braithwhite House in Lafayette Street.

At the foyer of Titus’ Great House, Samuel stood next to the mantel. Directly above him hung a large oil portrait of the family patriarch, red-brown eyes glaring down contemptuously at all of them while Samuel looked on. Like sheep, the family as well as other guests all fell in line, taking turns offering their condolences. Tributes, more like. And Christina stood behind her father, watching, listening.

* * *

Tic was standing off to the side of Christina’s office, staring at one of the paintings lining the walls. Christina watched him from her desk, pen cap off, a legal pad in front of her. She had scribbled a few notes; the pad was filled with dates and other important details. Tic was telling her the story of how he met Ji-Ah Park at an art gallery where she worked as an assistant. He was on leave at the time, having completed six months of deployment in the military. He was visiting his uncle’s family in Chicago and checking out the local art scene.

“She was working that day. We got to talking about art and history. We hit it off. I asked her to dinner. And after that, we went to her place.”

“This was a little over six years ago?”

“Yeah.”

They had dated during that period. Tic was supposed to ship out after two weeks but his uncle, George, had died suddenly (he had been a conscientious objector of war). After a grieving period, Tic had applied for separation from the military in order to go back to law school.

“We didn’t see each other again until I was working for the state’s attorney.”

As William said and as stated in the file, they were together for three years. They owned a house in Hyde Park, two cars and a dog named ‘Shoggoth.’ They had a joint bank account connected to their mortgage and credit cards but no children, no plans of getting married and, according to Tic, no talks about it. They broke up because Tic’s hours were brutal while Ji-Ah’s promotion to program coordinator for the gallery’s loans and exhibitions programs required her to travel and be away for months at a time.

“She was always wanting to go out. We did a lot of that in the beginning – we talked about people we saw, places we’d been to. But with all her traveling and my work, I just wanted to stay home and spend time together. I guess, after a while, she found that boring and she started going out by herself.”

“And did you also go out by yourself?”

“Not a lot. But I did go for after-work drinks with co-workers and mostly to parties that my boss made me attend. I made friends at those parties. Ji-Ah didn’t jive with them. She didn’t like politics or any of that and she didn’t like that I was getting involved in it.”

There was a pause. Christina looked back through her notes, then checked her watch. There were a few things they haven’t gone over, but those could be done in another meeting. Trial wouldn’t start in another two months. They had plenty of time to prepare, to do all the research and due diligence. Information needed to be gathered, processed and meticulously analyzed from all angles to come up with a good strategy. She didn’t like being surprised by unknown variables.

She looked up and saw that Tic was studying her paintings again. “Recognize any of those artists?” She asked, putting her pen down and slipping her notes into the file.

The piece that Tic was staring at was an abstract swirl of colors that looked totally random but full of emotion. He shook his head in answer to her question. “Not at all, but that–” he pointed to the first painting he had been perusing earlier: a single white blossom in a background of dark green leaves against a bright red sky. “That looks like an O’Keeffe,” he guessed.

“Good eye,” Christina said. She got that one off an auction at some charity event, which was how one usually came upon these things. At least, legitimately. Her black-market pieces were a private collection, not for display. One by one, she named the artists, “Zorach, Mehretu, Krasner and Rothenberg.”

Tic nodded vaguely. “All women.”

Of course, he would know that. The art gallery that his ex-girlfriend worked at had a pretty solid collection of women artists. In fact, the gallery had recently organized an exhibit and Christina wondered if she had met Ji-Ah Park during one of their program events. That gave her an idea, and she scribbled a note on the legal pad to check out the gallery within the next two weeks.

“So why only women?” Tic wondered, looking towards her.

Christina adjusted the scarf around her neck and checked her watch again. The meeting was over; this was just the denouement. Every client meeting had one. It was part of the ritual.

“I like their work,” she said. Usually, she hated this part of the job but she found she didn’t mind being conversational with Tic. She didn’t think much of it. “There’s passion there,” she explained, “hidden meanings, layers of meanings that I like to figure out. Also, there’s plenty of people who collect paintings by male artists.”

“You don’t think male artists have that passion?”

She cast him a glance to check if he was being an ass but his face was serious. “It’s not the same,” she answered.

“What makes them different?”

“Power,” she said simply. “Men think they have it, whether they do or they don’t. Women mostly know they don’t have it.”

Tic raised his eyebrows. “And you like that? That sense of powerlessness in a painting?”

“I like the struggle that comes with it. The fierceness of having to crawl out from under and attaining-”

“Control,” Tic finished.

“Freedom,” Christina said with a kind of savage smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to watch Downton Abbey. Did you know that Massachusetts is one of only 4 states in the US that had entailment laws? Hmm.


	5. Chapter 5

In the half-empty South Shore night bus, northbound on Route N5, Ruby Baptiste sighed in impatience. She had returned from a two-day visit to her sister, Leti, in Hyde Park that afternoon and had gone straight in to work from the metro without returning to her apartment. She wanted nothing more now than to be home and catch some sleep. But the bus was stalled for some minor maintenance check.

A guy in a suit was talking loudly over the phone a few rows away. On the seat directly in front of Ruby’s, a college kid sat with headphones on blast, a book on his lap. Ruby could hear snippets of expletive-filled rapping drift through. She hugged her weekender bag closer and leaned her head against the glass widow. It was almost midnight and she was tired. Closing her eyes, she tried to let her imagination remove her from the noise and ding around her.

Thirty minutes later, the bus began to move. At the station on 71st Street and Stony Island, Ruby made her way through the exit and up the stairs until she reached the bus loop on the overpass where another Northbound bus would take her to 56th Street. Fifteen more stops, and finally she was taking the short walk to South Cornell Avenue. There was a slight drizzle. She bent her head against it, pushing on toward where she could see the red brick façade of her building.

A few minutes later, she took out her key and opened the door to her apartment. Something on the floor snagged at her foot. After turning the light on, she saw that it was a bubble mailer; it simply said ‘Ruby’ in neat, cursive handwriting. She picked it up, turned it over as she dropped her bag on the nearest surface. Then, taking out a pair of scissors from her drawer, she cut it open.

Inside was the record sleeve, featuring a very familiar singer in a blue dress. Ruby took out the black vinyl record from its sleeve and smiled. She owned many Ella Fitzgerald records but she didn’t believe she owned this one yet. It looked rare. She laid it down on the platter of her vintage-inspired turn table, turned the power knob on and lowered the cartridge.

* * *

“So, have you talked to her yet?” Beatrice asked.

“Hm? Who am I talking to?” Ruby sounded. She was shoving a pen, waiter’s friend, beer opener and cigarette lighter into her pockets before pushing her bag into her locker.

It was a few minutes to start of shift and they were in the employee changing room in the back of Denmark Vesey’s. It was a busy night at the bar but nothing unusual for a Friday. Beatrice was doing the same last-minute checks as Ruby and indulging in idle chatter while they waited for Sammy to confirm their sections of the venue. She gave Ruby a look that said ‘seriously?’ before she clarified, “The vampire next door. Did you talk to her and confirm non-human status?”

Oh. _Her._ Ever since that night at Tree’s birthday party, Beatrice had been going on and on about her blonde neighbor being a vampire. Apparently, she’d accidentally met Christina on her way up to Ruby’s apartment and the latter must have struck quite the impression.

“Talk to her? They looked pretty cozy,” Devon, another shift partner, said. He entered through the back door in a hurry, stomping his muddied boots on the battered floor rug. It had poured sometime that afternoon, providing a brief respite to the almost unbearable humidity. But as suddenly as it began, the rain stopped. The only evidence of it were the wet splotches on the streets and muddy puddles that one could step on if one weren’t too careful.

“Saw it with my own eyes,” Devon was saying with gossipy excitement. “Acting like those kids in – what’s that Greek play that Shakespeare ripped off to write Romeo and Juliet?”

Ruby just shook her head and looked skyward.

“Pyramus and Thisbe! That’s it.”

“When? Where? And did it happen in broad daylight?” Beatrice demanded.

“When – just as the party was winding down. Where – in the balcony. And no, it was the middle of the night.”

“Vampire,” Beatrice said with conviction.

“No, she’s not,” Ruby said, feeling oddly defensive. “She seemed pretty normal, if a bit prickly.”

“Oh, vampires are total pricks,” Beatrice said, mishearing. “Tom Cruise in _Interview with a Vampire_? Even those incest ones on TV were jerks.”

“Incest ones?” Devon mouthed, looking at Ruby, who laughed and shrugged.

“Oldman in _Dracula_ was _the_ O.G. vampire for me.” Sammy swept in with the shift management sheet. He handed it to Ruby as he passed her on his way to the supply room. “Dreadful, intense, murderous,” he explained, affecting a thrilled shudder.

“Anyway,” Devon said, rolling his eyes at Sammy’s rhapsodizing. After the bar manager left with a mild _‘clock’s ticking, ladies,’_ he turned to Ruby with great interest, “What was she wearing?”

Ruby raised her shoulders. She had an image of Christina, all legs and blonde hair, languishing on a chair in the balcony in semi-darkness, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, but could not, for the life of her, remember the clothes she had on. Or what they talked about. Or anything apart from that weird, plunging, hollowed-out feeling she got every time their eyes met. “I dunno. T-shirt and jeans, I guess.”

Devon was looking at Ruby suspiciously but before he could say anything, Beatrice butted in. “Modern vampires do wear t-shirt and jeans,” she pointed out. “Although I do miss the days when Brad Pitt would go around all morose and brooding all over Europe in cravats and silk shirts as he tortured himself with agonizing thoughts of his immortal life without his wife and kids.”

“Jesus,” Devon swore under his breath, moving to grab an apron from his locker.

“What? I love that movie,” Beatrice said.

Ruby snorted, grateful that the flush on her cheeks wasn’t visible. “Y’all are crazy.”

“Well?” Beatrice challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong. Have you ever seen her leave the building during the day?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen her do things other than brood in her balcony with a glass full of red substance that’s maybe, probably, most likely fresh blood?”

“No.”

Beatrice threw her fists up in the air triumphantly. “I rest my case then.”

* * *

Christina B. was, of course, not a vampire. What she was though was very late.

Ruby looked up as the tiny bells hanging over the entrance to the coffeeshop sounded. The girl who entered was brunette, not blonde. She spotted the guy sitting by the glass wall to Ruby’s right and smiled shyly. The guy stood up as she approached and pulled up a chair.

Ruby checked her watch again. Thankfully, her work didn’t start soon but the coffeeshop closed at four-thirty. Already, people were starting to leave, using the place only as a starting-off point, ordering takeout and heading out. The minutes ticked by. She was feeling the first stirrings of irritation when Christina finally appeared.

The blonde made an arresting figure, dressed all in white, standing at the entrance and scanning the shop. The servers at the counter, as well as most of the patrons, all looked up and stared. Even Ruby found herself pausing in the middle of dropping a couple of bucks as a tip to watch the slender blonde glide over to her table.

“Ruby,” Christina said, sounding out of breath.

“You’re late,” Ruby only said.

“I got held up. Traffic is horrible.” Her eyes were apologetic but her smile was unaffected. She took the chair opposite Ruby’s without being asked.

God, she was a long one. When she sat, her knees bumped against Ruby’s under the table. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.” Ruby was visibly bristling.

Christina noticed and paused, apparently taking measure. “I came as fast as I could,” she offered, holding Ruby’s gaze steadily.

Her eyes were blue and not gray as Ruby first imagined. She glanced away to avoid their intensity and tapped the lip of her cup.

Christina meanwhile made herself comfortable, her knees brushing against Ruby’s occasionally as she leafed through the menu. “What did you get?” She asked, glancing around to catch the eyes of one of the servers behind the counter.

A young man in a black apron with the shop’s logo soon approached; his smile was practiced. “Hi,” he said.

Christina peered at his nametag. “Hi, Bruce. One regular Americano? No milk, no sugar.”

“We’re closing in a few minutes,” Bruce said. “Would you like your coffee to go?”

“Sure.”

When Bruce left, Ruby gazed at Christina in disbelief.

The blonde caught her look and seemed taken aback. “Sorry, did you want to order another one to go?” She asked, glancing at her half-empty cup. She had a dimple on her chin and cheekbones fashion models would die for.

“No.” Ruby straightened and moved her legs a little further away to avoid any more accidental touches.

“We can take a walk around the block,” Christina suggested, raking her fingers through her hair. They fell down her back, managing to look both sleek and artless at the same time. She gazed at Ruby expectantly.

“I gotta work,” Ruby said, ignoring the way the other woman made her feel a little off-balance.

“That’s fine. I can walk with you to work.”

“I’m not sure I want company.”

“That’s fine, too. My car’s parked over there so I’m going that way anyway. You can decide on the way.”

Ruby caught the smirk on her face. Irritation returned.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” Christina said after a moment, sensing her mood instinctively. This time there was no mockery in her tone. Her eyes fell and stayed down until Ruby made a sound, feeling herself deflate.

“Fine,” she said, “but you think maybe you can text or call to say you’re gonna be late?”

Christina lifted her gaze as a grin flashed. “Is that your way of saying I can have your number?”

Ruby gave her a pinched look and held out her hand. “Just give me your damn phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Ruby tries to get to know Christina and Christina tries to ask Ruby out without actually asking

By the time they stepped out, the sun was away in the west, and the first lights showing in the cafes. A cold wind was blowing. Christina had to hold one hand up to her hair to keep it in place. Ruby drew her jacket tighter around her.

There was a sizeable foot traffic on the boulevard outside the coffeeshop. People were going in either direction. Some coming home from work; others just starting their day. A few loitered in front of shop windows, laughing with their friends, or talking on their phones. The sound of horns blowing and cars and taxis swerving. Music drifting from an open-air bistro weaved through the din of shoes on pavement and the general noise of people going about their business.

As they walked, they naturally gravitated towards each other, avoiding the crowd trying to separate them. Christina’s strides were long but Ruby found it easy enough to match. They were in no hurry. They strolled along leisurely, with Ruby carrying most of the conversation. The sky turned an amber color, like Christina’s scent, and an amber glow came upon the city, spreading from the west, touching the roofs and the bridge and the tops of buildings. Somewhere between the cozy little coffeeshop they came from and a jam-packed deli place, Ruby decided that Christina was just not naturally chatty. She was curious though, and attentive. She let Ruby talk, her gaze hyper-focused and resting frequently on her mouth.

Ruby knew the look. From the first moment they met, Christina seemed to have no qualms of making her interest plain. And Ruby would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, that she was intrigued. Christina did not like talking about herself. But with playful persistence, Ruby managed to coax answers to some of her burning questions. She was a lawyer, she learned. This was not surprising though she had initially assumed she was in academia or in FinTech.

“I’d rather pay someone to manage my money than get paid to do it,” Christina said drily.

“Spoken like a old money, live-off-interest, trust fund baby.”

Christina closed her eyes briefly, mouth twitching. “Fair.”

She didn’t pretend. That was what drew Ruby’s attention. She was tetchy. She wasn’t even nice the other night. She just took everything in stride, blunt and unaffected, intent only in the thing that interested her at a given moment. 

Christina took a sip of her coffee and continued, “Teaching just never occurred to me. Why did you think I was a teacher?”

She sounded so puzzled Ruby had to laugh. “I just thought you were some kinda researcher. You seem to spend a lotta time reading them papers and working on your laptop and shit.”

She looked offended. “Now you’re also calling me a nerd?”

Ruby chuckled because she did think _that_ at one point. “You said it, not me.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Ruby repeated.

“What do you do?” Christina said. “I know you sing and I know you work nights. Are you a singer?”

“I do sing,” Ruby confirmed. “Some nights I do when I’m not working. But mostly I wait tables at this bar my friend manages.” Not at all glamorous, she didn’t add. She had dreams though. They may not be true (yet) but they were her own. She raised her chin only to find Christina studying the lipstick mark on her paper cup.

“And is that where we’re going?” She asked.

Ruby wasn’t fooled. She waited until Christina glanced her way before she threw her shoulder back and gestured with her hand. “Weren’t you just walking to where you parked your car?”

The blonde took her point and laughed lightly, but said nothing to defend herself.

Charmed nonetheless, Ruby later told her that she was going back to college. Finally get that degree she had been postponing while real life (taking care of her sick mama and bailing her little sister out of trouble) interrupted. She didn’t know exactly why she was telling this rich white girl all this, but it felt good to talk about her plans without being told how she should do it. Like give up her apartment and live in a nice new home in a nice suburban village in Hyde Park so she never had to worry about making rent every month.

(“There ain’t no catch, Ruby. You’re my sister,” Leti said when Ruby hedged at her invite.)

Christina listened and nodded. She didn’t say anything. Perhaps because she couldn’t relate and thought it best to just not speak. Smart.

“Been saving up ‘cause I ain’t stepping outta college buried up to my neck in student debt,” Ruby said, staring straight ahead. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, all of a sudden, a thought occurred to Ruby. She stopped in her tracks.

“What are you studying?” Christina asked, not realizing immediately that Ruby was no longer by her side. She turned around to look for her.

“That was you,” Ruby said, staring at her.

Christina slanted an eyebrow in question. “I don’t follow.”

“The record. Ella Fitzgerald.” She’d been almost sure the LP was Tree’s. They’d been discussing artists to cover and remix for their next jazz outing and Ella was always at the top of the list.

“Do you like it?” Christina looked delighted.

Ruby smiled warmly and started to move again. “I do. Very much. You shouldn’t have but thank you.”

“I heard you sing her songs a few times,” Christina admitted as she fell into step beside her. “You have a lovely voice, Ruby.”

“Thanks.” Ruby was used to compliments but something about the matter-of-fact way Christina said the words, without hedging, without even the intent to flatter, made her feel a little startled, a little disarmed, a little flustered. It led her to say, “You know you should come to one of our nights. We play on Thursdays. Me and my band, I mean.”

The “band” was a group of her friends – Seymour on bass, Jyreese on piano and Vincent on drums. Sometimes, Devon stood in for Jyreese. And Beatrice did harmonies when she felt like it. They didn’t even have a name. Sammy just introduced them as ‘Ms. Baptiste and the South Side Trio’ and regulars have taken to calling them that. But it wasn’t their name.

Christina said nothing. She gazed at Ruby languidly. She had a way of blinking that seemed like a language all its own. Ruby noticed there were dark rings around her irises and the mascara she wore today seemed only to emphasize them. “I’d love to,” she said to Ruby’s invitation.

They reached the end of the block where Ruby knew a small alley led to a parking lot. Christina was dropping her paper cup into a trash bin, pushing her hair back further behind her ears as she did. Then she slid her hands in her coat pockets and turned to Ruby with raised shoulders. She didn’t offer to walk her all the way to her workplace, only saying with a lopsided grin that she had a nice time.

“Me, too,” Ruby murmured. And she really did. Who knew? 

Suddenly, the lights went on everywhere, over the bridge, and down the street. The sky was not amber anymore, it was purple, like a grape, and the cold was starting to bite into skin. Ruby zipped her jacket up to her neck. It would be dark soon. She glanced at Christina just as the latter was sliding her gaze down casually over her before climbing back up slowly to meet hers. Ruby didn’t blush at the survey, though she recognized it.

“I want to see you again,” Christina said. No fuss, whatsoever.

Ruby’s right eyebrow quirked.

“Lunch or dinner, your choice.”

Her left eyebrow quirked.

“Or breakfast.” She rolled her eyes to the side when Ruby continued to stare at her wordlessly. “I’m not picky.”

“Christina,” Ruby finally said, feeling annoyance rise up even as her stomach did a strange flip, “have you ever… _tried_ just _asking_ a girl out?”

Christina blinked in surprise. “Why, Ruby, do you want me to ask you out?”

Ruby opened her mouth and closed it. Then, she exhaled noisily through her nose. “Oh, white girl, you ain’t getting it that easy –”

“I could rock your world,” Christina said solemnly. She’d taken a step towards Ruby, who felt a flutter – something like a nervous laugh bubbling up her stomach.

“Is that so?”

Another step. Her mouth was twitching again though her eyes remained steady. “Go out with me. I’ll show you.”

Ruby finally let out a snort and sent her a softly deriding glance. _What ego_ , she thought, ignoring the breathless pressure in her chest. She was about to turn and start to walk away when a hand grasped her wrist and held. The steel in the grip surprised Ruby. The woman was rail-thin, there wasn’t muscle or even an ounce of fat in that frame. When she looked back, she found Christina staring at her directly, personally, through the guards she put up around her.

She said only one word: “Please.”

If Ruby’s heart was doing flips before, it was thundering now. But she kept her face composed as she narrowed her gaze at her. “You can let go,” she said.

Christina looked down and seemed to notice for the first time that she was still holding Ruby’s wrist. She released her hold and glanced back up. Her eyes, the intensity in them, never wavered.

“Denmark Vesey’s,” Ruby found herself saying in spite of herself. She was regretting zipping up her jacket; it had gotten too warm. And she thought she had too much coffee because now her stomach was roiling. “That’s the name of the bar. As I said, we play Thursday night. You can come and watch.”

“And then?”

“And then, we’ll see.” Ruby put her hand to her ear, squeezing the flesh between cold fingers to dispel the hotness she felt at the tip. She noticed Christina tracking the motion, eyes lingering. She dropped her hand at once and shoved it in her pocket.

Blinking slowly, Christina said, “I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you all had a good and safe NYE. Here's to 2021, please don't be godawful.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.

Ruby checked her hair in the mirror. She was wearing a peacock blue dress with a sweetheart neckline that showed off her décolletage nicely. She pushed the curly dark hair back a little from her ears and turned her head sideways to insert two artificial valentino dahlias the color of the sky at dusk. There was light mascara on her lashes. Her skin, paler than its usual umber shade in the colder months, glowed under the warm light of the lamp. She was putting the finishing touches on her make-up when a knock at the door drew her attention.

Seymour popped his head in. “Ruby, soundcheck in five. We need you at the mic.”

“I’m comin’,” she said without turning.

Seymour tapped the door frame twice for emphasis. Ruby looked in the mirror only to watch him go, then she picked up her glass of whiskey high ball (Sammy always mixed one for her before a gig) and took a swig.

There were the usual nerves before a performance. But it was early yet. The place wouldn’t get its usual crowd until an hour and a half later. Plenty of time to get ready. Besides they’d played Denmark Vesey’s enough times that they already knew the cables and components in the backline like a book. Those, along with the amps settings, were the things that needed fixing well in advance. On the night of the gig itself, all they had to do was play a couple of songs at show level to get the board and mixes right. Ten minutes tops.

Ruby took another swig of her drink, picked up her lucky guitar pick and slipped it into her bra.

* * *

Christina checked her watch again. The conference call with the CEO of a corporate client based in Sydney was taking longer than anticipated. They had been discussing legalese involved in some new acquisition but the conversation had segued into golf thirty minutes prior. Lancaster’s enthusiasm for the sport was keeping the client on the line and Christina glared at him as she tapped her foot restlessly under the table. The motion caused the table to shake in time with her movement.

Finally, Lancaster caught on and began to wind down the chat. “Anyway, Bob,” he said over the speaker, “we gotta play sometime. You’re coming in this week, right? We’re playing Glenview this weekend.”

“Will Samuel be there?” The client asked.

Christina rolled her eyes. Her father would never be caught dead playing golf with Lancaster and his ilk.

Lancaster cleared his throat. “No, he has other commitments. Just me and a couple of old guards. Hey, maybe we’ll see you there one weekend to make a foursome. What do you say?”

6:16 p.m. Dinner at Samuel’s house was at seven and usually took about two hours and a half. She could leave an hour early. Her father wouldn’t care once he retreated to the study and got deep into discussions with his friends in high places. Then maybe if she drove like a maniac afterwards, she could still make it to Yates Blvd. in South Shore before Ruby’s band finished playing.

The client was saying her name. Christina unpressed the mute button and let a practiced smile slide through her voice. “So, Bob, looks like your visit to the US is all set,” she said. “Just let us handle the legal details of this takeover. You’ll see. Vanger and Sons won’t even know what hit them.”

Christina got back to her own office at 6:35 p.m. She changed out of her outfit, trading her gray plaid suit for a designer dress dotted with red hearts and a bold heart-shaped bust in crimson ruffles. Red suede boots and bright red lipstick finished the look.

Dell came by on her way out, asking if she needed anything.

“Tell William I’ll just meet him in Lake View,” Christina said, picking up her leather jacket.

“I’ll call him right now.”

Christina arrived at the driveway of the house in Lake View Park exactly fourteen minutes later. A familiar-looking car followed shortly and she watched William step out of the driver's seat. He looked dapper and lean in his off-white jacket and starched white shirt that she told him to wear. As the newest junior partner of the firm, the dinner was ostensibly held in his honor. But Christina had been to enough of these things to know Samuel used the occasion to increase control and spread his influence. After all, the guest list included many of Chicago’s elites. Men only – and their dates.

While they made their way up to the imposing structure, William assessed her with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “Well,” he said, “that dress is etiquette. You look like a thousand dollars.”

“And you’re still shit at compliments, William,” she replied without rancor. “No wonder you can’t get a date to these things.”

It was an arrangement they had. An especially bitter one because what he had, what was bestowed upon him as a token of hard work, was denied her for no reason other than that she wasn’t the son her father had wanted. Even though she put in the same amount of effort, time and energy. Always held back and kept in her place. It should have been hers, that seat next to Samuel Braithwhite. Instead, she had to content herself with getting access by playing the part of the pretty young thing hanging on to the arms of a man.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss the air beside her cheek. “Sorry for ruining your plans for the evening,” he murmured, straightening. When she didn’t respond or take the arm he offered, he checked his watch instead, his smile never wavering. “We’re just in time to make a grand entrance.”

“Remember our deal,” she said curtly.

“Of course.” Tonight, William could afford to be gracious. “I’ll drop in a good word –”

“I meant leaving early.”

“Right.”

They made their way up the stairs as the staff took their keys and parked their cars in the spacious lot out back.

“How late do you think you can push it tonight before your date cancels?”

Christina pressed her lips together, keeping her face composed. “It’s not a date.” It wasn't but she still needed to be there.

“Ah, my mistake.” They reached the threshold and William picked up the knocker.

* * *

“You okay, hon?”

Ruby looked over at Sammy as she took a break to wet her throat. On stage, Jyreese was playing the introduction to their next song on the piano. “Just a little parched, is all,” she said, bobbing her head in time with Seymour’s stand-up bass joining the piano for the first chorus.

“This is Sammy, remember?” The bar manager tapped a finger to her cheek playfully. “You been eyeballin’ every person that walked in that door all night. Each hour that passes, you ain’t just singin’ the blues, Rubes. Shit, you got it.”

Ruby shook her head in denial. Seymour and Vincent were trading phrases now with Jyreese in eights as they waited for Ruby to join them on vocals. Each time the music reduced in intensity and dropped scale, the audience clapped their hands and called out the next musician’s name for his solo. Soon, it would be Ruby’s turn. She finished her drink and looked up to find Sammy staring at her expectantly. Baring her teeth, she told him, “Ella sang it. It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.”

“That bad, huh?” Sammy laughed, but not without sympathy. “Now, I’m curious. Who’s the sorry fella?”

Ruby stared at the door, empty but for the muscled bouncer named Davey that Sammy hired more for show than for anything. She spied Beatrice serving one corner. The table was occupied by a group of friends. Ruby did a double take, noticing that one of them was a leggy blonde but she was too full in the body to be the person she was waiting for. _Ah, damn it._ She released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and glanced at Sammy. “It ain’t a fella.”

Sammy pursed his lips. “Oh, sweetheart.”

With a shake of her head, Ruby stepped back on stage to the sound of applause. From his place in the back, Seymour caught her eye and nodded. Jyreese played a riff and Ruby took hold of the mic.

“Alright, Ms. Baptiste! That’s what we talkin’ about!” Someone from the back said. Another whistled and the rest of the crowd cheered.

Ruby smiled, closing her eyes as she listened to the music inside her head. Inside her blood. She let the notes come, the band carrying the time of the piece. The music will take her mind off her, she told herself. Here, where tension was drawn and released. Here, where there was nothing but the music, and the aching pleasure of making it.

The notes slipped out, throbbed in the air, sobbed into a wail.

And Christina walked in the door.

* * *

In her element, Ruby Baptiste was a vision in blue, her dress hugging every curve, the skirt swishing around her long, long legs as she worked the stage, her smile open, her pleasure obvious. Christina watched, her blood swimming. She heard her singing before but always in secret, always in the privacy of her apartment, her voice soft, singing for no one but herself. She’d never heard her singing quite like this. Like something was being dragged out of her, shared generously with the room and put right back. 

From her seat, Christina drifted into it, slid into those low, bluesy notes, rose up with the sudden wailing sobs. It was different, she thought, watching her perform than just hearing it through the walls. There was more power, more heartbreak, more of that pull that Christina always felt around her.

Ruby’s voice, her music, was one to weep by. To make love to. To dream on. And when it was over, it was always too soon.

It caught her, focused her on the stage so she didn’t notice the time, didn’t even notice that they were on the last set. She sat there transfixed as the last notes faded, jarred back into action only when the stage lights went off. Christina blinked. The crowd was starting to disperse. From the corners of her eyes, she saw one of the staffers make a beeline for her table. It was then that she remembered she hadn’t ordered a single drink. Quickly, she slapped a few bills on the table without counting and stalked to the door.

Outside, she waited at the sidewalk by the side of the building, taking long drags of her cigarette. She didn’t have to wait long. Ruby came out, shrugging on her coat as she did. She looked up and down the street, eyes searching. She was about to turn back when she saw her. Brown eyes found hers in the dark, and Christina breathed. In. Out.

“Hi,” Ruby said, approaching slowly.

Christina didn’t speak. She tossed the remains of her cigarette into a nearby trash bin.

Ruby stopped in front of her. “I thought you weren’t comin’.”

“Got held up.”

Ruby ran her gaze over her, taking in the dress, the leather jacket, the overall made-up look. “Fancy.”

It was the way she said it that had Christina swallowing through suddenly thickened throat. “It’s just dinner. My father hosted. Old men mostly.” For some reason, she found it difficult to form words, her phrases sounding odd even to her own ears.

Ruby was smiling. “I’m glad you came.”

Christina gestured towards the bar with her head. “That was incredible. _You_ – were incredible.” She was going to say ‘magical,’ was about to, but Ruby was speaking.

“Thank you.” Ruby didn’t seem bothered at all that they were out here in the sidewalk, in the cold, at half past midnight with the city half asleep, adrift in their dream world. She looked confident, assured. Beautiful. A curl of hair was waving gently against her temple. The light from a nearby streetlamp struck her profile, revealing the sweet curve of cheek, the contours of her lips.

Christina took a step forward, closing the distance, stopping only to gauge her reaction. Ruby noted the pause with curiosity but inclined her head slightly, and Christina leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss on her cheek. She didn’t realize she was sighing until she felt relief from the unbearable pressure in her chest. When she pulled back, she saw Ruby frowning up at her.

“White girl, you call that a kiss?”

Christina blinked in surprise. “What?”

But Ruby was already reaching up, her palm sliding under her hair, over her nape, tugging gently until her lips swooped over hers in a kiss that punched the breath out of Christina’s lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that. Thank you for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

Christina was surprised but only momentarily. Then, her hands came up and she cupped Ruby’s face, thumbs stroking her cheek and mouth brushing over hers in a kiss of vast hunger and delicacy.

Ruby’s initial poise died on a moan. The passion she tasted was no less volatile than the passion she felt. Her hands were in Christina’s hair, rough, possessive and the latter responded by running her hands along her sides, clutching her waist and pressing her close. This time, it was Ruby’s turn to gasp. Sweet, lingering, Christina’s lips were soft and skillful against hers, her tongue beginning to probe. Ruby opened her mouth and touched her tongue with her own, toying, dancing together until the heat became unbearable and they just had to stop.

Together they drew away.

"Well.” Ruby struggled to regain her composure and failed. She could feel the heat on her cheeks and she pressed her palms over to cool them.

"Well," Christina echoed. She sounded nonchalant but not unaffected. She was still breathing a little too fast.

Ruby wondered if she sounded the same way. Be casual, she told herself. It was only a kiss. She moved as if to step away and Christina dropped her hands but stayed on the spot.

“Have you eaten?” Christina asked, combing her fingers through hair that only a minute ago Ruby had grasped and tangled in her hands.

Ruby unconsciously touched her own curls and caught Christina lifting a corner of her mouth.

“You look fine, Ruby. Don’t worry.”

But Ruby found that the skirt of her dress had hitched up and that one of her straps was threatening to come off her shoulder. _Fine, my ass_ , she thought, trying to fix them.

“We can grab a quick bite if you want,” Christina suggested.

Ruby shook her head. She always made it a point to eat a little despite the lack of appetite before a performance. The shot of adrenaline afterwards usually did the job of keeping hunger at bay until the next morning when she treated herself to a large, leisurely breakfast. She remembered that Christina herself had come from some fancy dinner party so going out hunting for a restaurant that would serve them dinner at this hour was not necessary. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

Christina looked down the street. “So what do you want to do?”

There really was nothing to do. And she was tired. She’d had enough excitement for one night. All she wanted to do was sleep. So she said without thinking, “We should go to bed.”

Christina glanced back at her, eyes comically round.

“I mean, _separately_ ,” she quickly amended. “Obviously.”

* * *

“Do you like art?” Christina later asked in the car on their way home.

(She drove a Bentley. Of _course,_ she drove a Bentley. A silver convertible with a distinctively classic-style silhouette.)

On the passenger’s side sat Ruby. She was trying to figure out which among the knobs and buttons on the well-trimmed cream and wood dashboard was the power button for the stereo. “What kind of art?” She asked absently.

“Paintings. Modern and post-modern.” Christina finally noted her look of confusion and reached across the dashboard. As she did, her arm brushed against Ruby, who made no attempt to move. With a slight furrow in her brows the only indication she was affected by their closeness, Christina pressed a button.

Instantly, the silence was filled with the thoughtful, layered soundscapes of a cello flowing from the speakers. Ruby could tell right away it wasn’t the usual suite - the breathy half-sounds of bow-hair touching steel string, a fingernail scraping the side of the bridge, all the noises of sound production one never associated with classical. She glanced at the display, a little startled, a little in awe. “This ain’t Bach,” she found herself saying.

Christina righted herself in her seat and returned her focus on the road. “You can switch to radio, if you like.”

Despite the suggestion, Ruby kept the CD on, finding that she enjoyed the seamless fusion of classical elements with the flowy sounds of R&B. She studied Christina’s profile etched against the passing neon lights lining the street. A strange woman, she mused. She was difficult to measure. Alternately cold and intense, yet Ruby couldn’t deny feeling drawn towards her.

“There’s an art show this weekend that I want to check out,” Christina continued after a while. They were nearing their street. “Do you want to go?”

At least, she asked this time and not just telling her what she wanted. Still, Ruby tried the driest tone of voice she could muster: “With you?”

Christina only sent her a languid glance, eyelashes fluttering.

_Flirt_ , Ruby thought, feeling an answering flurry deep in her stomach. On impulse, she smiled and, after a pause, Christina smiled back – a swift, punch-to-the-gut smile full of irreverent fun and sly humor.

“Ideally,” Christina said in reply to her question, then adding teasingly, “But you can go on your own and you can tell me about it later.”

Ruby laughed.

* * *

In the hallway outside their respective apartments, Christina wordlessly reached for Ruby as she was fishing out her key from her purse. Warm hands cupped her cheeks, blue eyes glued to her lips. Ruby knew they were going to kiss again. The anticipation of it kept her on edge the whole ride through. When the woman’s mouth finally descended on hers, the experience was more than the sum of all its parts. Christina’s lips burned against hers and Ruby melted into the kiss.

* * *

Tic was waiting for Christina outside the courtroom. It was a little before ten o’ clock in the morning and the place was loud and teeming with lawyers, plaintiffs, and defendants standing amidst uniformed guards and random members of the public. A huge man in an undershirt pushed past Christina to join a woman pushing a stroller with a crying baby inside. The two of them argued for a while before moving further down the hallway to be swallowed up by the swelling crowd.

Tic broke off from speaking with a couple of lawyers in dark business suits as soon as he saw Christina approach. “Hey,” he greeted and gestured in the general direction of his companions. “You know Larson and Pierce, I suppose.”

Christina nodded at the two men. She’d seen them in court a few times though they had never been on opposite sides of a case. She waited until they left before she appraised Tic of the motion she filed in his behalf. “It’s just to get the ball rolling. The judge may agree and dismiss this lawsuit as unfounded but it’s not likely. The goal is to get the other side on the table so we can discuss terms.”

“She’s being represented by a legal clinic,” Tic informed her.

Christina was not surprised by this. Before coming to her, Tic had “conflicted out” most of the top family law firms from consulting with Ji-ah Park on the case. This was probably the reason the opposing party resorted to legal aid serviced mostly by law students and lawyers racking up their pro bono hours before the year ended, as required by the Illinois State Bar. It was a shrewd move, one that made Christina realize Atticus Freeman was not someone to be underestimated.

“Good,” she said as she turned to open the door to the courtroom. “I’m sure they like nothing more than to avoid outright hostilities and come to a quick agreement.” Then, she paused to make a swift survey of his figure, noting the notch lapel navy blue suit, the tab collar shirt and skinny tie. “The suit looks nice. Sharp but not flashy. Your face, _hmm_.” She let go of the doorknob and put a finger on her chin. “Didn’t I tell you to get a good night’s sleep?”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s about to get his dirty laundry aired out in public.”

“Just try to look alive, Tic. This is the easy part.”

Tic looked at her resentfully. “You’re in a damned good mood.”

Christina beamed before turning again to push the door open. “I am. By the way, who’s the handling lawyer?” She wondered if it was anyone she knew.

“Lewis. Letitia Lewis,” Tic said, reading from the card in his hand as he followed her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...in this fic, Christina plays the cello. Because I think it's sexy. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this update. 
> 
> p.s. I have no idea why the fuck or how the fuck it happened but everybody, except Ruby, is a lawyer in this fic like idek but here we are. Here. We. Are.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All about Ruby.

Coffee, cinnamon, fresh eggs and bacon. Ensconced by these favorite scents, Ruby relaxed in her chair by the window of her favorite diner while Tamsin, the waitress, repeated her order for her. Steam exhaled off the lip of the cup of coffee that was generously filled for her without being asked.

“Thanks,” Ruby murmured.

Tamsin just gave her a friendly smile before moving on to the next table where a man sat alone, scanning the day’s headlines.

Ruby wrapped her fingers around her cup for warmth and looked out the window. It was just after ten o’ clock in the morning. A few people braved the cold outside, clutching their coats tight as they darted into stores or waiting taxis. Ruby envied them a little for having something important to do. In a burst of energy early this morning, she finished a week’s worth of chores. She even managed to fold and put in the closet the pile of laundry that had been sitting on the couch since last Thursday. It was all in a bid to tame her thoughts, which drifted compulsively to a certain blonde in the apartment next door without approval.

And it worked, if only for a moment. But eventually, chores got completed, the laundry got folded, and now, she had the rest of the day to herself with nothing on the agenda. She was still getting used to such idleness. As she slid deeper in her seat at the diner, she could already feel it buzzing in her ears, inching up her spine. The events of last night thrummed through the stillness of her existence, irritatingly persistent.

She needed a distraction. Since work wasn’t until several hours, she decided to pick up her phone. Perhaps one of her friends would be up for a late lunch or early dinner. But as she scrolled through her contacts, she realized there really was only Beatrice and Devon and the former had a toddler to watch while the latter was probably still in bed at this hour, with a hungover or a hunk – or both.

Leti’s name came up and Ruby paused. Recently, she spent a weekend in Hyde Park, where Leti had bought a new home. Her little sister seemed eager to reconnect, which made Ruby a little wary. If she was trying to make amends for Eloise, she was eight months too late. Their mama was already cold in her grave. But she learned that Leti’s reasons were more complicated than that.

* * *

The house was a dream.

Ruby barely registered the click of Leti’s phone camera as she stared in awe at the imposing red-brick façade of the two-storey home in South Kenwood Avenue. Leti was openly laughing at her face, partly because Ruby supposed she looked funny with her jaw hanging open, and partly because of nervous anticipation. Even now, as a woman of independent means and income, Leti had yet to get over her need to gain big sister’s approval in every major decision in her life.

And this – this was capital.

Leti’s nerves were all over the place. “So, what do you think?” She asked breathlessly, hanging on to Ruby’s arm, her dimples winking in and out of both cheeks.

Ruby turned her gaze to her, eyebrows raised all the way up. “You bought a house.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a big ass house.”

“I know!” Leti flashed her a grin, gesturing with her head. “Come and take a look inside.”

Ruby didn’t need an explanation to know that the house was an impulsive buy. And a home in Hyde Park, even on the South Side, did not come cheap. But Leti told her she got it off-market. The owner, a client of her boss, was moving upstate and needed to unload the place fast. And the money for the down payment was a loan from that same boss.

“I had to act quickly before somebody else snatched it up.”

“Uhuh,” Ruby sounded. She wondered just what kind of boss would loan that kind of money to an employee, but before she could give it any more thought, Leti dragged her inside.

“Oh, quit being such a sourpuss,” she said airily. “You haven’t even seen the whole place yet.”

After lunch, Leti gave her a tour. Viewed from inside, it was apparent that the place was old and a little rundown. The interiors looked like they needed work, a lot of it, which made Ruby believe that Leti wasn’t exaggerating when she said it was a bargain. There were two bedrooms occupying the second floor, a sun room, living room, kitchen and dining room on the ground floor and a basement.

“What you gonna do with all this extra space?” Ruby wondered, glancing over at Leti, then regretting it almost immediately.

Leti had that look, that shit-eating grin on her face, one that Ruby knew so well. As children, Ruby often found herself getting roped into things with that look, only to later find that she has to bail both herself and her little sister out when things went south - and they always did.

Over the years, Ruby had learned to say no to things that sounded too good to be true. Unlike Leti, Ruby realized early on that things did not come easy for her. Experience taught her that she couldn’t get everything on her own terms, that more often than not, in order to achieve her goals, she had to work extra hard and take the long way around. She learned to compromise, to deal. Leti never did. Maybe she got it from their Mama to whom hustling was second nature, or maybe from her white Daddy, Ruby wasn’t sure, but Leti always had a knack for getting what she wanted out of life.

“Did you know the basement has soundproof walls?” Leti asked her. She was leading the way towards a narrow door below the staircase.

Ruby shook her head. “Now, I know you ain’t saying this house belonged to a serial killer and the basement was where he kept his victims.”

Leti cocked her head to one side. “God, that’s morbid. Although….”

Ruby drew up. “Goddammit, Leti, don’t you tell me this is an actual murder house.”

Leti giggled. “No,” she said. “What I mean is you can use the basement as your own private studio. I know you and Tree are still making demos. Save fifty bucks an hour recording at that crummy old place downtown and set it all up here instead.”

Ruby looked at her, a frown slowly forming. “What you saying?”

“How’d you like to move in? Is what I’m saying.”

“With you?”

Leti laughed, apparently taking no offense. “Come on, Ruby. It’s just us now. You and me. Marvin’s never gonna move back here from Springfield.”

Not for any reason. Ruby didn’t have all the details but Leti and Marvin had a falling out years before. They were able to patch things up eventually but their brother-sister relationship was never the same. With Ruby, it was a little different. She wasn’t hard like Marvin with his resentments and grudges, and she wasn’t soft like their Mama, whose love could be suffocating. Being older, Ruby felt responsible for Leti. She didn’t tolerate her bullshit but she didn’t tell her what to do either. Instead, Ruby treated Leti the way she herself wanted to be treated - like her own person.

And so, for years, the sisters did their own thing. Ruby stayed close to their mama because Eloise had alienated everybody else in her life as she got by in years. She dropped out of college to get two jobs and drive Eloise to and from the hospital. Towards the end, Mama was so weak she couldn’t get up from the bed to the bathroom without assistance and Ruby had to take charge of her affairs. Her decision to move back in, however temporarily, fostered much resentment from the old cardsharp, who accused Ruby of being too much like her father and not enough of her.

To Ruby, it was like listening to a broken record. She didn’t even remember her own father. He was a trumpet player, her mama only said. Left when Marvin was three and Ruby two. Ruby used to fantasize that René Baptiste joined a band somewhere and became famous. She thought that someday she’d stumble upon a music magazine with him on the cover and she would recognize him immediately because her mama always said she looked like him. But that never happened and Ruby soon threw away her collection of old _Rolling Stone_ issues gathering dust under her bed and went to work as a babysitter for the Johnsons.

Leti, smart and charismatic with their mother’s sharp intuition and her father’s shrewdness, went off on her own as soon as she was old enough. Her startling lack of sensibility was masked by a sense of joie de vivre so that no one, not even Ruby who was credited for having a good head on her shoulders, was immune to her charms. In California, she found old Jack Lewis working as a salesman at a used car lot. Father and daughter supposedly got along famously but it was also around this time that Leti first got into serious trouble. When Leti got busted for trashing some white man’s car, it just about broke Eloise’s heart, thinking her darling daughter was going down that route. Marvin had to go fetch her while Ruby and Eloise pooled their money together to pay the bondsman.

After she got out, Leti surprised nobody by not returning to Chicago. She left Marvin hanging out to dry and went incognito. None of them knew where she was or what she was up to until Eloise’s condition took a turn for the worse. Even then, Leti refused to come. She only said she was in law school and needed some money to pay her tuition for the next term. Ruby told her to come home or fuck off. Leti did the latter and Ruby stopped sending her money. But like a cat, Leti always landed on her feet.

Sometimes, Ruby wondered if she resented her for it. Leti was able to do things her way with a single-minded purpose, no care whatsoever for the people who got ran over by the speeding bus of which she lived her life. The house in Hyde Park was the culmination of something and Ruby was not so blithering as to deny at times experiencing her own feelings of inadequacy. But then, she remembered the number of times she’d had to pick up the pieces after Leti barged into their collective lives with her highfalutin ideas and big dreams and left just as quickly when it all came crashing down.

Dreams and ideas, that was what Leti was about. Gossamer notions, flimsy as a bubble. Never something as solid or durable as a plan. Everything else was just coincidence and the privilege of irresponsibility.

“What’s the deal here, Leti?” Ruby asked. Because personally she was tired of it.

“The deal?”

“Let’s say I move in with you. I help you pay the mortgage and bills and all that, and then what?”

Leti looked stunned, and not a little hurt. “There ain’t no catch, Ruby. You’re my sister.”

* * *

Tamsin came by Ruby’s table a few minutes later with her food and a fresh pot of coffee. She topped off her cup, saying only, “Here you go, honey” before she was off again. Ruby shifted in her seat and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

She hadn’t decided if she was going to move in with Leti. Truthfully she was very hesitant to upend what equilibrium and independence she achieved for herself after her mother left this earth. Hell, it was the main reason she didn’t want to entertain any thoughts besides her goal of going back to college, getting that business degree and a job with a good dental plan, and then perhaps one day opening up her own place. Singing was a vehicle, same as waitressing, to get her from Point A to Point B. Everything else was a distraction.

Ruby’s phone began buzzing an alert. She glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number and Ruby felt her heart skip a beat.

“There’s a new restaurant that just opened to great reviews.”

_Christina._

Ruby had hoped both to hear and not to hear from her today. She felt conflicted. Ideally, she wanted to box up all her inconvenient feelings and shove it in a corner where it was out of the way. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ was kind of her philosophy about these things. 

Another text: “Do you want to do lunch later?”

Ruby hovered her thumb over the keys on her screen, tempted to tell her last night didn’t mean anything. It was only a kiss. Well, maybe a few kisses – hot, melting ones that burned on her lips and in her mind long after they parted.

Ruby locked her screen and let out a breath. And just why was _she_ interested in _her_ anyway? Christina might be sharp around the edges but she was incredibly attractive. Plus, she was rich and had status. Even with the standard character flaws of someone with her background, Ruby was certain Christina had no shortage of admirers, men or women. So as to why she caught her particular attention…. Not that Ruby had no confidence in her own appeal –

Did she fit a type? Or, god help her, a _fetish?_ Ruby considered it. In all her interactions with Christina, Ruby never once felt like she was being fetishized. Challenged, yes. Observed. Admired. Maybe a bit objectified but always with Ruby’s tacit permission. And so even though Ruby had managed to build a life around not needing people, spurning advances even from her own sister, here she was yearning after a practical stranger. Absurd.

“I’m at a diner. Having breakfast,” she finally typed and hit ‘send.’

There was a long pause, during which time Ruby dug into her food. She was sipping down her coffee when Christina’s reply came. Annoyingly, it was just a reiteration of her earlier question:

“So do you want to do lunch later?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with this fic, for commenting, for leaving kudos. I know the last update was a while when I usually try to update at least once a week. But I needed a little break and distracted myself with other stuff. I hope you enjoyed this one and thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Thelonious Monk's album.
> 
> I was surprised by the reception the neighbour vignette got. It made me want to write more modern AU Christina and Ruby. The idea here is to have no magic (because I don't know how to write that) but the characters still have a lot of the same issues. The others will be mentioned or appear in later chapters.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading.


End file.
